


When I Watch You Sleep (I Dream)

by JaskierOfRivia



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Idiots in Love, Multi, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaskierOfRivia/pseuds/JaskierOfRivia
Summary: 'I wonder if she’s dreaming about me and Jaskier', Geralt thought to himself. 'Dreaming about how much she loves us, how much we love her. How happy we make each other. That we make each other’s lives better and whole.'“Gods, she’s beautiful when she’s sleeping, isn’t she?” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “She’s beautiful all the time, of course. But there’s something almost… ethereal about Yen when she’s sleeping. Otherworldly. Like she’s a goddess in some faraway world and we’re the mere ordinary folk who have been given the opportunity to gaze upon her.”ORAfter Yennefer saves Geralt's life once again with her magic, Jaskier and Geralt watch her sleep it off, thinking about how much they love each other and how godsdamn lucky all three of them are.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	When I Watch You Sleep (I Dream)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brucespringsteen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucespringsteen/gifts).



> I'm firmly on the Geraskefer bandwagon and it's all Amanda's fault. These three all deserve to be happy and they all deserve to be happy together <3

“How is she doing?” Geralt asked, appearing in the doorway.

“Sleeping restfully and without pain, thankfully,” Jaskier said, from his position seated by Yennefer’s bed. He turned to look at Geralt, concern written all over his face. He’d always been a very expressive person, Jaskier. “How are _you_ doing? Are you okay?”

Geralt crossed the room to stand next to Jaskier, bending over to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “The wound’s itchy as fuck and still stings a little bit, but it’s not even close to my worst wound. And the poison’s all gone, thanks to Yen. She’s the one we need to fuss over right now, not me.”

Jaskier smiled fondly, reaching behind him without looking and gripping Geralt’s arm with both arms, holding it close to his own body. He leant against it and sighed. “I know. I’m still glad you’re alright though. I know you’re a super strong Witcher and Yennefer’s an essentially immortal sorceress, but I still worry about the two of you. I know, I know, it’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Geralt assured him. “It’s a normal thing to feel about people you love. I worry about you and Yen as well, you know.”

“You’ve gone soft in your old age, Witcher,” Jaskier laughed. “Whatever happened to ‘I need no one’, huh?”

“That was the young, foolish me,” Geralt retorted. “I know better now.”

Geralt sank into the chair next to Yennefer’s bed, sighing heavily as his body finally got the chance to relax. While the poison had completely left his system, and he was going to be one hundred percent fine, he was still incredibly, incredibly tired. His body had fought off the poison for hours (an amount of time that would’ve spelled certain death for a normal human) before Yennefer had gotten to him, not to mention his wounds themselves had to heal.

Unfortunately for Geralt, Jaskier had noticed his behaviour. “You should be sleeping too,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You were poisoned, love. You were near death. Yen may have healed you, but you still need your rest.”

“I’ll rest when Yen wakes and I’m sure she’s fine,” Geralt said, in a voice that said there was no room for argument. “She saved my life today. Again. She’ll also want to see me when she wakes, so she can be sure her magic worked and that I’m okay. And besides, the poison is completely out of my system, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to right now and Yen wouldn’t be sleeping to restore her energy and her chaos. Waiting to sleep won’t kill me, Jask.”

“You’re lucky I’m worried about Yennefer too, or else I’d be forcing you into that bed, Mister Witcher. I’m not scared of you.”

“I know.You never have been,” Geralt chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve never been scared of either of us. Even when you thought Yen was going to kill you.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of when it comes to the two of you, and everything to love,” said Jaskier simply, shuffling his chair until his leg was touching Geralt’s. He stared at Geralt until the Witcher turned to look at him, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Geralt’s lips. “Why do you taste like apple juice?”

“Needed to wash the taste of my Witcher potions out of my mouth,” Geralt explained. “Some of them are fucking disgusting. I’d rather not throw them back up because my toxicity levels were higher than I thought they were, or kiss you or Yen tasting of them. I know you hate that.”

Jaskier made a face. Geralt wasn’t wrong. He’d once made the mistake of kissing Geralt right after he’d taken several of his potions, and Jaskier himself had nearly thrown up right then and there. There was definitely a difference between a high toxicity Geralt (who was feral and fucking _hot_ , by the way), and Geralt with the taste of potions in his mouth.

Assured that Geralt was at least recovering just fine, if not tired, Jaskier’s attention turned back to the sleeping sorceress. He fussed over the sheets, smoothing them out so there was not a wrinkle to be seen. Yennefer’s body was hidden beneath the silk bedcovers, only her bare arms, neck and head showing.

Geralt looked down at her, frowning slightly. “Did you _change her clothes_?” he asked Jaskier.

“She asked me to,” said Jaskier, with a wave of his hand. “Said she didn’t want to ruin her dress further by sleeping in it, and she didn’t want to tempt us by sleeping naked.”

Geralt couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Gods, he loved Yen. Even with her energy completely drained by saving Geralt’s life, she was making sly jokes and thinking about the two people she loved most. “That’s our Yen,” he whispered, loud enough that Jaskier heard him.

The bard sighed, leaning into Geralt’s side and continuing to watch Yennefer sleep. “How many times has she saved your life now? Three? Four?”

“Five,” Geralt answered. “I’ve saved hers four. She’s keeping count. She decided we’d stop keeping count of how many times the two of us have saved you, though. It’s too high already.”

“And I’m grateful for every single one of them,” Jaskier said sincerely, turning Geralt’s hand palm up, drawing over his scars with a single finger before threading their fingers together. “Particularly the whole ‘making my lifespan just as long as the two of yours’ thing.”

“We’d do it again, and again, and again,” Geralt said adamantly, bringing Jaskier’s hand up to his lips and kissing it, without taking his eyes off Yennefer. “The two of us may live for a very long time together, but without you, it wouldn’t be worth it. She thinks the same, by the way.”

“I know. If I was in your position, if one of you two was the one who was completely mortal, and I could extend your life to match the length of mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Jaskier ran his thumb back and forth over the back of Geralt’s hand absentmindedly. It was something he often did, just enjoying being able to touch one of his lovers. He did the same thing with Yennefer. Jaskier needed touch far more than Geralt or Yennefer did, and they were all to happy to oblige him. It warmed their bodies and hearts to do so.

Both men fell silent, although Jaskier continued to lean against Geralt as they both watched Yennefer. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, with her long raven-black hair fanned out on her pillows. Her face was completely smooth, no anger or stress anywhere at all. Instead, she wore a small little smile on her face. Probably dreaming, something happy, or wholesome, or something she enjoyed.

_I wonder if she’s dreaming about me and Jaskier,_ Geralt thought to himself. _Dreaming about how much she loves us, how much we love her. How happy we make each other. That we make each other’s lives better and whole._

“Gods, she’s beautiful when she’s sleeping, isn’t she?” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “She’s beautiful all the time, of course. But there’s something almost… ethereal about Yen when she’s sleeping. Otherworldly. Like she’s a goddess in some faraway world and we’re the mere ordinary folk who have been given the opportunity to gaze upon her.”

“Alright, you wordsmith,” Geralt chuckled. “But I get what you mean. “It’s like she’s too beautiful and peaceful for this world. You just put it a lot more poetically than I ever could.”

“That’s okay. I bring the pretty words and music to this relationship. You bring the practical and the physical. Yen brings the beauty and the magic.”

“And we all bring the love and happiness,” Geralt concluded. “Not to mention the really, _really_ good, mind-blowing sex.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Jaskier agreed. “I mean, I’ve slept with a lot of people in my life, but with you too, it’s like nothing else. Between your strength and stamina, and Yen’s magic, it’s just... _fuck._ ”

“Precisely. Not to mention the things you can do with your fingers and your mouth...” Geralt trailed off, looking down at Yennefer, even as he rested his own head on top of Jaskier’s. “Before you and Yen, I didn’t really know what love or happiness was. I didn’t know what it meant to be wanted, or to belong, not truly. Not amongst people who were _freaks_ , like me. Don’t start, Jaskier, I’m not insulting myself, I’m just saying what other people call me,” Geralt added, when he saw Jaskier opening his mouth to argue. “And then I met you, and you were just so _eager_ to know me, so fearless, treated me like I was normal. For the first time I knew what it was like for someone who wasn’t a Witcher to not be scared of me. I knew what it was like to feel _human_ , to feel like a regular person, who deserved love and good things in my life.”

Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand reassuringly, lovingly. _You really do deserve all those things_ , the gesture said. _Yennefer and I both think so._

“And then when I met Yennefer I just… it was like meeting someone who was my equal, almost. Who _understood_ me. Someone who understood what it was like to be considered a freak amongst regular humans, who, like me, spent most of their life since childhood feeling unwanted and abandoned and unloved. Who had this powerful and frankly terrifying exterior, but inside was incredibly vulnerable and broken and desperate for love. She was beautiful and terrifying and for some inexplicable reason she loved me, and I wanted to give her all the love I could possibly give.”

Geralt paused, looking down at Yennefer with a fond yet confused look on his face. Even though he wasn’t a mage himself, Jaskier could basically read Geralt’s thoughts like Yennefer could. _I always thought she couldn’t love me. That there’s no way someone like Yennefer of Vengerberg could love me. I always figured some day you and her would both figure that out and walk away from me._

As if he wanted to precisely confirm Jaskier’s assumption, Geralt said, “I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to deserve the both of you.”

“You were _you_ ,” Jaskier said forcefully, so much so that Geralt actually fell silent.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “I honestly didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party this time. This is what I mean about you being the wordsmith, not me. What I wanted to say before I got all morose was that when most people find love, they find _one_. And whatever fucking gods are out there decided I got _two_. And not only two, but the two most fucking beautiful, wonderful, loving, _amazing_ people on the entire Continent. I don’t know that _anyone_ deserves to have both of you, but I’m going to do my absolute fucking best to try.”

“Yen feels the same about us, you know,” said Jaskier suddenly. Geralt lifted his head up to turn and look at Jaskier, surprised. She told me once, when you were out on a contract. I’d just won that bardic competition back in Oxenfurt, and you waited until afterwards to go eradicate that whole nest of drowners, remember? You smelled so bad when you came back to the inn, Yen basically magicked you into the bath herself.”

“I remember,” Geralt confirmed, scrunching up his nose and laughing at the same time. “That was the first time you _both_ washed me. We all needed a bath after that.”

“Fuck, that was a good night,” Jaskier said fondly, before sitting up properly and shaking his head. “Anyway, we’d gone back to our room because I was getting kinda tired and Yen was giving me the bedroom eyes, and that _is_ the best way to pass the time while we wait for you to come back to us safe and sound.”

“You don’t have to tell me. You know the number of times we’ve fucked on the road while Yennefer’s been off somewhere, or me and Yen have fucked while you’ve been off on some bard competition or at Oxenfurt or we’ve gone somewhere that’s too dangerous for you.”

Jaskier punched Geralt in the arm, and the Witcher theatrically winced before Jaskier continued. “After we’d finished, we were talking about you, how long we thought you’d be gone, how you’d hate being alone for that short a time even though you’d never actually say it, all the ways we’d touch you when you returned... I said something about how happy you’d be to see us, how as soon as you could you’d just take us into your arms and hold us, how you’d once told me that it was thoughts of us that kept you going through even the hardest fights. Yen sighed, really wistfully, I might add, and said much the same as you just did. How she doesn’t know what she did to deserve the two of us, how she may be beautiful and deadly but we’re too good and too pure for her- her words, not mine. She said she’s all chaos and anger and darkness, and frustration at the world and wanting to take back everything life took from her, and we soften out her hard edges and fill her with warmth and love and _light_. She said she’d spend her entire life trying to prove she’s worthy of our love, and that she loves us just as much as we love her.”

“She’s so much more than all that, though,” Geralt said. “She’s bravery and fierceness and determination, as well as beauty and life and warmth, and love and laughter. And kindness. She may want everything, but she _deserves_ everything. And she gives just as much as she takes. I could go on, but I don’t think I can find the words for as elaborate a description as I want, like you did before, poet.”

“No, no, that was wonderful,” Jaskier agreed. “And you said basically what I was thinking. Not in as descriptive a way as I would’ve done, of course, but I _am_ a bard. It’s my thing.”

Jaskier himself often wondered why Geralt and Yennefer loved him the way they did. The strongest Witcher amongst incredibly strong Witchers, and quite possibly the Continent’s most powerful sorceress. And Jaskier was just an incredibly normal, human bard (admittedly he may well be the best bard there was, if he did say so himself). Somehow, some way, he had won both of their hearts. So much so, Geralt and Yennefer had found a way to extend the lengths of Jaskier’s life, so he would stop ageing and live just as long as they did. Jaskier may not necessarily always see what was special about himself, but Geralt and Yen sure did. And they showed him every day.

_It’s how good you make us feel,_ Geralt and Yennefer always told him. _It’s how you’re not scared of us, despite everyone else being afraid. It’s how you make us feel happy and like we deserve your love, despite the fact that we don’t always feel like we do. You make us feel safe and whole and loved, like no other human ever could. That’s your power, making others feel better, whether it’s with your music or your words or just_ you _. And we will spend forever repaying you for that._

“Hey,” said Geralt softly, jolting Jaskier back to reality. “You okay?”

Jaskier smiled, small but warm and sincere. “Now that I know you and Yen are okay, or at least that you’re going to be? Yeah. I’m okay.”

Satisfied, Geralt moved his chair closer to the bed, leaning over so he could brush Yennefer’s hair off her face. His fingers were featherlight, not wanting to rouse the sleeping sorceress. He just needed to touch her in some way to reassure himself that Yennefer was real and right there with him, especially after she had spent so much energy and magic saving his life once again.

Even after brushing her hair away, Geralt’s hand lingered on her face. “She’s so beautiful,” he breathed. “Like an angel. A goddess. A lover, dear heart, partner, protector.”

“So much for not being a wordsmith,” Jaskier quipped.

“I’m not. But everything I know about words and poetry and the magic behind them, I learned from you.”

Geralt leaned over and press his lips to Yennefer’s forehead, both because he really needed to kiss her and to check her temperature.Her skin was as cool as it always was, and just as soft. Perfect. Geralt could touch her forever, in a thousand different ways, with his hands _and_ his mouth. He would never tire of learning every inch of Yennefer’s body, every way he could use his own to bring her pleasure.

The same went for Jaskier, mind you.

“You’re going to wake her,” Jaskier chided, although there was no malice behind his words at all.

“If she wakes, it will be because her magic has recovered enough that it’s sensed my presence and roused her,” Geralt said. “A touch as light as this won’t make a difference. And besides, with how long I’ve been in the room, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wakes very soon anyway.”

“If Yennefer wakes, and you can assure yourself if she’s okay, will _you_ finally get some rest?” Jaskier asked.

“On my honour as a Witcher,” Geralt replied, tracing the outline of Yennefer’s face with a single callused finger. A small smile was playing across his face, teasing and loving and concerned and tired all at once.

Geralt’s finger paused on its third run past Yennefer’s mouth as he fell completely still, cocking his head to one side as if he was listening to something.

“What is it?” Jaskier asked, worried, hands braced on his chair as he prepared to deal with some approaching threat.

“Yennefer,” Geralt said simply, withdrawing his hand and studying the sorceress. “Her heartbeat’s speeding up, and her breathing. She’s waking up.”

Rather than preparing to get up, Jaskier leaned forward, towards his sleeping lover. Sure enough, Yennefer was beginning to stir, moving slightly, her mouth forming words with no sound coming out. Jaskier was sure he saw her mouth Geralt’s name once or twice. Yennefer scrunched her eyes slightly, moving her head from side to side once, twice.

“Yennefer,” Geralt said, his voice quiet yet forceful, not wanting to scare her. “Yennefer, it’s me, Geralt. I’m here, I’m okay. Your magic worked, the poison’s gone. You saved my life, once again.”

Yennefer began to move even more, her head turning unconsciously towards Geralt’s voice. Yennefer blinked slowly, and then rapidly, her hands clenching the bedsheets before she finally opened her eyes, searching the room frantically before her eyes finally fell on Geralt.

“Geralt,” she said, relieved, her body somehow sinking even further into the bed. “You _are_ okay. You were unconscious after I healed you, and I know the poison left your system, but I wasn’t sure if I was too late.”

“You were right on time, as always,” Geralt said, a twinkle in his eyes as he took Yennefer’s hand in his. Geralt’s hand was so much bigger than Yennefer’s, which was deceptively small and dainty, that his completely enveloped hers, closing around it, keeping it protected and warm and safe. “Like I told Jaskier here, the wound itself is still healing so it’s sore and itchy as fuck, and it’s making me tired, but the poison is completely gone. I’m all good, thanks to you.”

“If you’re so tired, why are you not sleeping?” Yennefer said, narrowing her eyes in a way that was far too reminiscent of Jaskier. _Gods_ , the three of them really had become alike in their years together.

“I was waiting to make sure _you_ were okay, Yen,” Geralt retorted, slightly petulantly. This was another aspect of their relationship, one that they’d originally all despised but now they all adored. The constant teasing, ribbing, digging into each other. It was just so _them._ “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without knowing.”

“You’re too soft sometimes, Geralt of Rivia,” Yennefer commented, her voice still weak, but not enough to hide the joking tone in her voice.

“Only for the two of you,” Geralt said, squeezing Yennefer’s hand, before brushing her hair away from her face once again to kiss her brow. “Well, and Ciri too, but that’s not relevant now.”

“So much for ‘Mister tough-as-nails Witcher’, best fighter on the Continent, can kill the strongest monsters with just a single slash of his sword,” Jaskier joked, before joining Geralt in moving closer to Yennefer’s bedside. He took the sorceress’s free hand in his own, lifting it to his lips and kissing it while staring her down with heavily lidded eyes. Yennefer laughed, side-eyeing Geralt with a gleam in her eye that, once again, was _so_ reminiscent of Jaskier it almost scared Geralt.

“I _did_ get badly injured and poisoned fighting one of those monsters, Jaskier,” Geralt pointed out. “That’s the reason Yennefer’s recuperating in bed, remember?”

Jaskier winked at Geralt, before turning back to Yennefer. “It’s good to see you well, my lady,” he said. “I was sincerely worried about you, you know. Despite the fact that you were well enough to portal all of us back here and then get me to change you into a nightgown before I put you into the bed.”

“I was never in any real danger, Jaskier,” Yennefer assured him, reaching out with a shaking hand to cup Jaskier’s face. He leant into her touch, sighing heavily. “I have used much more chaos, more magic, in one go before than I used to heal Geralt.” _Sodden_. They all knew that was exactly what Yennefer was talking about. It wasn’t an event any of them wanted to talk about again, at least any time soon.

“I know,” said Jaskier. “Deep down, I know that. It was just- when you fell asleep or passed out, whichever one it was, you were just so silent, so still, for a moment there I thought… I thought you were actually dying. That one definitely _was_ just me being too dramatic, seeing as you never actually stopped breathing or anything. I’m sure if you had, Geralt would’ve heard it from wherever he was and come charging into the room.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘too dramatic’ when your worried about the health and life of someone you love,” Geralt said.

“I know, I know,” Jaskier said. “And besides Geralt, you were closer to death today then Yennefer was. It’s just- it’s just _hard_ sometimes, being the only regular human one in this relationship.”

“Doesn’t stop Geralt and I from being any less worried about your safety and your life,” said Yennefer, her voice growing stronger by the minute. “Fuck, at one point we were so worried about losing you, we literally scoured the Continent to find a way to make you as long living as us, remember?”

“I remember,” Jaskier laughed, his smile broad and warm and _happy._ “You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing at first, just in case you didn’t find anything or gods forbid I said _no._ As if I’d ever say no to spending the rest of your lives with you.”

“You said yes so fast we were worried about you for a solid few minutes there,” Geralt joked. “We didn’t even know if it would work. But it did. I can smell that faint scent of _magic_ on you all the time, and my medallion buzzed when it touches your skin.”

“Mmm,” Jaskier hummed, leaning into Geralt’s side, while reaching forward at the same time so he could touch Yennefer wherever he could reach. “How many more years am I going to live? Fifty? A hundred?”

“However long we do,” said Yennefer. “We don’t even know how long Geralt will live for, just that it will be a significantly long time. No Witcher has ever died in his bed, after all.”

“I plan on changing that fact,” Geralt added. He looked so steadfast, so serious, that Jaskier and Yennefer almost laughed when his eyelids fluttered wearily and his head drooped, fighting sleep.

“You need to _rest_ , Geralt,” Jaskier said, sitting up and poking Geralt firmly in the chest. “We had a deal, remember? As soon as you were sure that Yen was okay, you would sleep.”

“But-”

“ _Now_ , Geralt.”

It was a mark of how much Geralt loved Jaskier (and Yennefer too, considering she was now glowering at him), how much he want to please him and make him happy, that Geralt sighed and rose to his feet. Many would have said he gave in far too quickly, that he’d gone soft, that he was too _submissive._ But in reality, Geralt of Rivia was just madly in love.

“Fine,” he said, not sounding as put out as he really wanted to. When he turned to leave the room, however, a small, weakened hand grabbed at his own.

“Yen?”

“Stay in here,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Sleep with me. This bed is big enough for more than just the two of us. And this way we can both be sure that the other is fine.”

“Well, if you insist,” said Geralt, giving in far, _far_ too easily. He pulled back the bedcovers and slid in beside Yennefer, getting as close as he could. He held the sorceress close, her head resting against his chest like it was the softest pillow, her raven coloured hair tickling his bare skin. Geralt thanked whatever gods were out there (not that he believed in them) that he’d thought to change into his sleep pants. Skin to skin contact with at least one of his lovers was what he had been _craving_ , even if he’d only just realised it.

Turning his head slightly, Geralt saw Jaskier watching them with a fond smile on his face. “You gonna join us, or what? Yen did say there was room for all of us, after all. The bed feels awful lonely when we’re not all in it.”

“What, in these clothes?” Jaskier said, gesturing down at his outfit. It wasn’t his finest, by any means, but it was still finer and more expensive than all of Geralt’s clothes put together (as far as Geralt knew, anyway). They should’ve known there was no way he was going to ruin it by sleeping in it, like Yennefer with her own clothes or Geralt with his armour. Yet another way they were alike.

“I want to compose before I rest some, anyway,” Jaskier continued. “I’ve got the beginnings of an epic ballad in my head, and I must get it out before I forget even a single note of it. Then I’ll change and come join you. You two rest, though. You both need it.”

Jaskier kissed Geralt’s mouth, then Yennefer’s, before pulling the bedsheets up tight around them. “Sleep tight,” he whispered. “I be back before you know it. I love you both.”

“Love you too,” Geralt and Yennefer chorused, Geralt putting his arms around Yennefer before they both closed their eyes. They were asleep before Jaskier reached the end of the hall.

As Geralt and Yennefer slept and recovered, Yennefer’s magic returning to full strength and Geralt’s wound healing, Jaskier composed one of his greatest songs yet. About a Witcher who killed terrifying and evil monsters, the sorceress that saved his life, and the bard who loved them both.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/JaskierOfRivia)


End file.
